Uncover
by MangoDonut
Summary: One shot written from the perspective of Sam. As mentioned in Shiver, this is when he (as a wolf) saw Grace naked from her bedroom window. Rated T for the hint of nudity, but don't expect anything obscene since their relationship is so much more than lust. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy!


Sam 14 °F

I came to her house that night.

Because I always waited for her. Because I had to.

The other members of the pack howled in the distance without me, accustomed to my habitual absence during these frigid nights. Every wolf instinct ingrained in my brainstem flagged this decision to venture into unsafe territory and begged me to join the others. Still, one single tendril of humanness shrilled inside of me, and I pressed on.

I waited patiently for the familiar signs of life in the house: a woman scurrying mindlessly in a canvassed room, a tired-looking man hanging up his coat, yellow light seeping through the frosty windows.

A window blinked open. The girl's.

Just seeing her struck a rich, powerful chord in my mind and produced a million images. My ears perked up, highly alert. I scanned her room, watched her shake a towel in her damp hair and smooth over the clothes strategically laid out on her bed.

She danced between my field of view, walking from one end of the room to the other, wrapped up in her own structured routine. I could tell that she enjoyed following this routine and found satisfaction in the orderliness.

Suddenly, the girl stopped in her tracks and stared boldly out the window.

She had such a yearning expression on her face, as if she were searching for someone important to her. Slight disappointment flashed in her eyes and she resumed making her preparations for the night.

I selfishly thought that emotion-filled look was for me, though I knew I was too far away for her to see me. But I was _still there_.

I lowered my tail and made movements to return to the pack, but something caught my attention. The girl carelessly dropped the dark gray towel that clung to her dewy body as a second skin, and it lay heaped at her feet. All of her was bare. All of her was exposed. All of her was for me to gaze at.

My nose twitched in the wind that carried her scent, and I instantly smelled waves of luscious lavender soap, minty mouthwash, and the sweet, cozy feeling of imminent slumber. Even in her uncovered state she was still so much warmer than me, and I ached to share that heat with her.

My trance was ruptured by Shelby, who must have seen the images of the girl in my mind. She began to pound me with mental pictures of us nuzzling each other, signs of courtship amongst wolves. Before I let her get carried away with her insignificant fantasies, I flashed an image back at her: her back was on the ground, paws dangling the air in a subordinate stance while I ferociously flashed my teeth over her helpless body.

I returned to the girl. Her skin was so creamy, so unharmed that my eyes bore into the endlessness of it and I lost myself for several moments, recalling foggy memories of when I wore the same skin as hers.

How badly I wanted to be that other world, and feel the softness of her skin between my human fingers, and wrap my human arms around her human body ever so tightly. I wanted her warmness to be my own.

The lone tendril of humanness quietly reminded me that what I was doing was wrong, so wrong, but I couldn't help it. The girl gave me a reason to hope and think of something greater than myself.

Even so, the sacred moment ended when she put on a shirt and fleece pants. I heard her melodic voice call out – I presumed to the two others in the house—but they didn't respond. She shrugged her shoulders, climbed into the snug cocoon of her bed, and turned off the light.

I wondered how much longer I would have to wait until I changed. I made a silent prayer that it wouldn't be much longer, that I would soon be greeted by greening pastures and flowers beginning to bloom. Warmer weather meant that there was a chance that I could confront the girl, that is, if I ever found her and thought that she could handle the truth about me.

The biting arctic winds seeped into my thick ruff, chiding me for such ludicrous dreams.

It would be a long, long time before I changed. The thought alone was unbearably painful, so I tossed my head up and sang the most mournful song that I could possibly muster into the desolate, unforgiving night.


End file.
